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Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing

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Friday, Feb. 06, 2004 - 4:54 a.m.

Cost of the War in Iraq
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WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.

I Wish I Could Say

I wish I could say I don't cry anymore.

I wish I could say that I don't think of her anymore.

That I don't read about people's valentines plans, and their fireplay plans, their travel to see lovers plans and their cuddling plans, their dancing plans and their playrole negotiations, and that my throat doesnt choke anymore. That I don't have to fight back tears in my eyes anymore.

I wish that I could say I don't have dreams anymore. Dreams where I am in another city, or another place, where I am stood up and turned away from. Dreams that leave me sad and rejected and feeling resigned.

I wish I could say I don't sob at night before going to sleep anymore. Holding my pillow and trying not to imagine her soft skin.

I wish I could say that I don't imagine her stroking that domme's leg anymore with devotion while I sit alone. That I don't see her face angry at me because I wasn't wanted there.

I wish I could say that I don't imagine anymore the webpages I found of my body on display for the pleasure of a third party, that showed I was betrayed at the start as well as at the end.

I wish I could say that tears don't drop on my newspaper sometimes reading articles that remind me of her.

I wish that when people speak of reading stories to people, that I could say I don't imagine her head on my shoulder as I read aloud.

I wish I could say that I don't see her sometimes in my mind when I look at others in my dance class.

Or wonder how I'll deal when I see her face again. I cannot think of that without crumbling into tears.

I am doing fine. I am feeling happy and strong and proud of myself. I am starting to see other people instead of being blind to them. I am starting to forget.

But I wish I could say it was all over.

And I cannot.

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previous meanderings - future past

Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009


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